Let's not mention this
by Anya3
Summary: A side story for 'We make our own'. Before things intensify, Matthew and Gilbert go drinking and Matthew really likes his music. T for Suggestive


**Let's not mention this...**

by ~Anyankafirequeen

_Okay so this is a gift fic for ~MegaAnimeFreak7! Ya know, I could have just done a chapter, but I think to do it justice, it needs to be a little side story, all it's own. ^_^ It's a little different than the request but I will try for you out of appreciation!_

It still has to do with W.M.O.O. story line, but a little bit AU from that universe XD Perhaps because Gilbert will NEVER tell Matthew about this night and he's certain not to remember it.

Short fic is short! 3

Disclaimer: Yaoi, Prucan, drinking (which I only condone if you are of age in which case, I'm free tonight) and pole dancing. Kinda. XD

So by request, my dear, here you are

* * *

In retrospect, this may have not been the best idea he'd ever had. Though, looking back there had certainly been signs that would back that statement up. He really would not have imagined the evening would be this difficult to get through. But Matthew wasn't making things easy on him. In fact, he was making things very, _very_hard.

Pun _completely _intended.

It had started off innocently enough. He'd arrived at his best friend's house in the late afternoon just as Alfred was bidding him a farewell. That had been the first down point. He really should have asked him to stay, but he found himself shushing away the nagging thought that he wanted time alone with Matthew.

The second sign should have been when he'd challenged his friend to a night of drinking until one of them passed out. Matthew, though ever-mindful and responsible, saw no harm in this since he was a fairly seasoned drinker. He could hold his own, as he had stated. The sign itself was Alfred just behind him, eyes widened behind framed lenses, shaking his head vigorously. Prussia had simply shrugged this off. Really, what harm could there be in getting Matthew past his limit. He was a country, their side affects were severely lessened so the most he would have was a hang over. That and with as reserved as the Canadian was, there was no way he could get that wild.

And so he ignored the second sign. Because really, he didn't put much stock in the 'it's always the quiet ones' cliché. It was Matthew, how wild could the man get?

The third and final sign came in the form of the bartender, who had clearly overheard their bantering. Or rather, he'd likely overheard quiet mumbling from Matthew and loud boisterous bragging from Gilbert. He'd glanced between the albino and his nation's incarnation, a nervous look crossing his face. After Matthew's third shot, he began questioning if he thought the smaller man should slow down.

However, those warnings were ignored and taken as the man simply declaring his friend as a light weight and Gilbert had ordered a double shot for his next round, not paying any attention to the bartender nervously shaking his head.

Five shots in Matthew didn't seem affected in the least. Now Gilbert, having come from a life of holding his own in any drinking battle thusfar, was fairly impressed. He'd expected at least a little bit of something, some reaction, but Matthew seemed just as normal as usual. This, of course, prompted the former nation to order more rounds of shots and two large beers, demanding something a little stronger than what they'd been on. By this point the bar itself, a popular place, had filled with quite a few bodies, the juke box playing some old country song in the background. They sat at the bar, laughing quietly (at least Matthew was being quiet) as they drank their drinks down.

Two beers and a total of eight shots in and finally, _finally_Matthew seemed to start swaying just a bit. Prussia had to admit that the man could definitely hold his liquor. Granted he still couldn't hold a candle to his own abilities as he was still mostly sober leaning on just the edges of tipsy. Matthew however, was slowly losing focus in his eyes. His laughter volume had increased just the slightest and Gilbert could taste victory on the edge of his tongue.

Over the next hour, their binge continued until Matthew was most definitely swaying. However, Gilbert, noticed, it wasn't the sway of a drunk out of control or ready to fall. Instead, he was unconsciously swaying to the music. Next started the humming. As Gilbert spoke, Matthew would sway or bounce side to side to the beat of whichever current song was paying. It was amusing to say the least, but almost strange to see the man so relaxed. Sure, they'd gotten drunk together, well…now that he was seeing this, perhaps they hadn't.

Two shots later and there was a deep flush settled in on the young Canadian's cheeks, his voice coming out a bit louder. He was giggling too. A lot. Gilbert had a very hard time holding his own laughter in watching the man sway back and forth to the music rather vigorously (though he was fairly certain Matthew didn't even realize he was moving) and giggling about nothing in particular.

Two shots later, everything went to hell. Up until that point, the night had been hilarious to say the least and though he was certain Matthew would pay for it dearly in the morning, his own amusement was being fulfilled in heavily measured proportions.

The turning point had been the change in music. Matthew had complained that the last two songs were too slow, too uninteresting, and so he'd made his way, swaggering just the slightest, to the machine in the corner. It had taken him all of five seconds to find the song he was looking for, bouncing on his heels as the first thudding base notes flooded the small bar.

It was not a song Gilbert would have figured the small man would pick, but one never knew with such a quiet country and as he was already discovering, each time he was with the Canadian he was learning more and more interesting things. He wasn't certain how exactly the next series of events began, but one thing was certain. Even if Matthew forgot what happened this night, Gilbert never would.

It had started as just a small shimmy, singing with the song as he made his way back towards his albino friend. Gilbert watched with amusement as he sidled up to him, exclaiming how much he loved the song. It was all well and good until, with a distinctively mischievous grin, Matthew downed the rest of his beer (which was nearly a full glass) and wandered off in the direction of an empty dance floor situated before a stage assumedly for live bands.

A frown slowly settled its way on Gilbert's face. There were six or seven other people on the dance floor, a few of them fairly drunk on their own and dancing to the music. He pondered for a long minute about staying put and just letting Matthew have it out on the dance floor before a heavily unexpected rush of jealousy swept through him. A young girl whom Matthew had greeted earlier in the evening (as most everyone in the bar knew who he was) was dancing with him. But not just dancing, _rubbing_herself up against him. And Mattie didn't seem to be complaining. In fact, he was dealing out a temptation all his own when he moved his hips like that. Gilbert ground his teeth together in irritation, taking another drink of his beer.

The final straw of the evening came when Matthew decided that dancing with the girl simply wasn't enough. A few more people had migrated to the dance floor, effectively blocking the view Gilbert had of his friend's excursions. What alerted him to the change in pace however, was the sudden appearance of Matthew's upper body hovering over the other dancers. It was at that point that the Prussian realized that not only had Matthew struggled his way up onto the stage, but had decided to make ample use of one of the stage support beams.

The raucous cheers were drowned out by the thick pounding in his ears as the meek little Canadian man began to downright _molest_ the beam. But damnit, where had he learned to do that? No wait, he didn't want to know. He most certainly did not want to know, because then he might have to kill whoever had taught the kid that. And what the hell was he doing with his hands? Did he just _lick_the fucking pole?

Gilbert's ever boundless patience broke and he too, downed the rest of his beer before shoving his way through the now fairly dense crowd of cheering bystanders. Matthew's shameless and impromptu pole dance was brought to a screeching halt when a set of pale while hands grasped him about the waist. He was pulled, only half struggling, away from the pole and down off the stage to a round of booing and 'aww's at the end of his performance.

A glare from Gilbert quickly dispersed any further vocalizations of disagreement from the audience who turned back to dance. However, pulling the man down may not have been the best action. In fact, it brought Gilbert to his current predicament. Pondering that of all the moves he'd made that night, it was in fact, the worst.

Matthew, having been denied his pole for leverage, decided that Gilbert would make a suitable exchange and rather than struggling against him began dancing against the man like he had the pole.

Gilbert's entire body went stiff as Matthew slid his arms around his shoulders, one knee pressed between his own. The smaller of the men was pressed down against the leg he'd successfully trapped, hips moving in a way that, in the albino's opinion, should not have been physically possible. It was all that the former country could do to keep his hands steadied at Matthew's waist as the smaller man ground down against him.

Even more unexpectantly was when Matthew's arms tightened around his neck, pulling him in closer he was damn near forced to move with him. What in the hell had possessed his little friend? Where had this fiend come from? And why was he so determined to rub up against _him_! But despite his inner protests, Gilbert found his strength to fight against the man's movements losing the battle.

_Oh fuck it. _

Arms wrapped tightly around Matthew's waist, pulling him closer. Gilbert relished in the gasp. Oh yeah, two could play that game.  
However it was his turn, yet again, to be surprised as he found himself quickly backed up into a dimly lit corner just near the bathrooms. His heart was thudding hard in his chest as a set of hands wound themselves into his hair, cropped nails dragging along his scalp and a hot breath against his ear. It was all he could do to attempt to keep his sanity as the blonde man slid against his body, mumbling incoherently against his cheek.

And that, of course, lead to the biggest problem of the night. A problem that verdamn Matthew Williams was currently _grinding_ down against. And all be damned if it wasn't on purpose. Gilbert felt the blood rushing from the rest of his body to his face and…other parts of his body, namely the aforementioned one. His own arms tightened around the man and with a groan he buried his face into the thick material of the red hoodie Matthew had donned for the evening. _Scheiße_he even smelled good. Giving up, Gilbert moved with the man, his fingers gripping the back of the man's shirt tightly as the moved in perfect unison to the thudding beat of the song, effectively helping his problem along just nicely.

Everything got to him, the way his little blonde was moving, the breath against his neck, the light brush of lips against the skin there, the fingers gripping his hair….everything was driving him insane.

"Mattie…" he breathed.

"Hn…?" came the slurred response, fingers in his hair loosening just the slightest, body relaxing against the man.

"That bathroom have a lock on the door?"

Silence greeted him and he chuckled, half-nervous that maybe he'd pushed the thought too far. It was then, however, that he noticed the lack of movement against his body any longer, a certain part of his anatomy aching at the loss. Oh god, please no.

"Mattie?"

Silence.

"Matt?"

Again, silence.

"Oh god birdie, don't do this to me. Not now." He groaned, realizing the accuracy of his assumption as the man slumped backwards in his arms, for better lack of a term, passed the fuck out.

With a heavy sigh, he moved them to one of the lounging couches a few feet away, allowing his friend to slump against him, a light snore hovering in his throat. It was going to be a little while before they would be able to leave at this point. With Matthew breathing against his neck again, albeit unconscious, his problem wasn't going to be going away any time soon…

Matthew awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his throat dry. _Oh god how much did I actually drink last night?_He groaned internally, the sound making it's way from his mouth as he stood, instantly regretting the action. Carefully he opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light coming in through the curtains.

After a quick trip to the bathroom and a difficult trek down the stairs, Matthew found himself standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Gilbert stood drinking from the carton of orange juice in front of the fridge.

"I've got cups."

Gilbert jumped, spinning around to face the accuser. He paused after a moment though, a slow chuckle escaping his lips and daringly raised the carton again, taking another swig. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit, eh." Came the indignant response. The Canadian moved towards his friend, taking the carton from his hands and dropping into a seat at the table. After taking a drink of his own, he sat the carton down on the table. "So um…about last night.."  
Gilbert swallowed hard, his face flushing a light hue of pink. Matthew didn't seem to notice though, his eyes unfocused as he dropped his head to the table. "Yeah…last night.. erm.."

"What happened? I remember the past the second beer and then….nothing."

The relief couldn't have rushed from Prussia's lungs any harder, leaving a sting in his chest. Not that he had a problem with being attracted to the little blonde man, but the ramification of their actions last night might leave a bad taste in the mouth of their friendship and that wasn't something he was willing to risk.

"Oh nothing really." he shrugged

Matthew raised his head, an eybrow crooking at his friend. "Nothing? That's hard to believe. Last time I got drunk I got lost in a closet for an hour and a half and came out wearing women's clothes. And happy about it. So yeah, somehow, me just passing out doesn't seem that plausable."

Gilbert shrugged, sitting across from the man and snatching the carton back. "You may or may not have harrassed a pole for a while." He smirked, deciding to leave out the details of the remainder of the night.

"Oh god..."

A snicker answered the man's groan and was countered with a half-hearted glare. "What can I say birdie, you got the moves."

"Please shut up."

* * *

_  
It's not awesome, but I enjoyed writing it. ^_^  
Poor Gilbert. I see this at a point right before they get together, so you can intigrate it if you want or take it at face value as a separate storyline completely!  
Nice distraction for me (though I had a moment of panic when the computer shut off and I thought I lost everything. RIGHT AT THE END. But...thank god for autosave.  
And any mistakes are whatever. I'm at work and i'm lazy. _


End file.
